As fall settles in, the air becomes cool and crisp, leaves turn those beautiful hues of orange and red, and the maroon-and-gold football team enters the home stretch of its football season.

As hooded sweatshirts emerge from their off-season storage, remember to clear open a few hours of your Saturdays to watch Minnesota’s football team compete in some meaningful end-of-the-season games.

These final games of fall will have Gophers football optimists geared up already, but for the pessimists, you too are invited to cheer on coach Glen Mason’s crew. Okay, granted there was the punt attempt gone wrong, penalty plagued, late defensive collapse that was the Wisc. loss. And, yes, sure there was also the embarrassing annihilation at the claws of ageless Joe Paterno’s Penn State Nittany Lions.

Oh, and one other thing, I’d be remiss to not mention the Gophers will once again have to fight its team’s recent reputation for late-season collapses … But, let’s not forget the positive factors this 2005 Gophers squad has brought us.

(1) They defeated Mich. Yes, the Gophers defeated the Wolverines for its first time in 19 years. And, they accomplished this defeat in front of a packed Big House (Mich.’s home stadium) full of 111,117 screaming blue-and-maize clothed crazies.

(2) They dominated a respectable Wisc. Badgers team for nearly nine-tenths of its home contest on October 15th … AND

(3) They are the proud owners of two all-American offensive linemen and a Heisman Trophy candidate running back.

Those accomplishments, plus the fact there is no solid Big Ten frontrunner, would indicate there is a real possibility Minn. could win its first conference title since 1967. Then came a superlative Ohio State Buckeyes team on a mission, which OSU accomplished rather easily, handing Minn. a 45-31 setback. Although a Big Ten Championship is, yet again, out of the question, there is a feat Minn. hasn’t accomplished in 64 years that might still be reachable: the Heisman Trophy.

To trace this trophy’s Minn. ties, we revisit the year 1941. It was a year of infamy, nationally remembered for Hawaii’s Pearl Harbor. Locally, however, 1941 was a special year for Gophers football. It was a year when Minn. reached college football’s pinnacle, a year the team won its 16th straight game in finishing back-to-back undefeated (8-0) seasons. These teams earned Minnesota’s fourth and fifth National Championships and featured Heisman Trophy winner Bruce “Boo” Smith.

Smith, a Minn. running back from 1939 through 1941, carried the Gophers through its ‘40 and ‘41 undefeated Big Ten and National title-winning seasons. And, in doing so, he claimed college football’s most coveted individual achievement, the Heisman. Smith earned the esteemed award in 1941 and has since remained the lone Gophers Heisman Trophy winner in Minn. football’s 123-year history.

Flash forward to 2005 and you will find another highly-talented junior running back, Laurence Maroney. He leads Minn.’s rushing attack, which currently boasts the most yards of any division-one team. And, as Minnesota finishes its schedule with a home contest against Mich. State on Nov. 12 the team, yet again, will not have a chance at the Big Ten crown, it will have an opportunity to showcase Maroney as both start talent and Heisman Trophy material.

For Maroney to achieve this feat, many things must go right. Minn. must go 3-0 in their last games, Maroney’s health must be stallion-like at all times, and the Gophers highly touted back must continue to pound and barrel his way through opposing tacklers even though his team has a lack of valid conference title hopes.

On the bright side, the bye week is over and Maroney, a native of St. Louis, and as his well-accomplished O-Line, have had their chance to get rested and refreshed. Now is their time to shine. It’s time for the memory of Smith to evoke itself into Minn.’s new feature back. Or perhaps it’ll be time for Maroney’s rushing attempts (233 through eight games) to wear on him as he continues to break through Big Ten defenses whom opposing coaches have strategized and systemized to key in on the him.

Besides Maroney are issues of a new football stadium, Mason’s job security and Minn. winning its fourth bowl game in consecutive seasons; but, a Heisman Trophy is a special trophy that speaks high praise for both a player and a program like no other college football award does.

The vaunted trophy’s worth explained, here are some highlights from Maroney’s resume as of Oct. 30:

* 3,729 career rush yards — ranks 3rd in Minnesota history

* 612 career rush attempts — ranks 5th in Minnesota history

* 6.09 yards per carry (career) — ranks 3rd in Minnesota history

* 4,573 all-purpose yards — ranks 2nd in Minnesota history

But keep in mind Maroney is in his third season, whereas most of Minn.’s other top backs played all four.

Statistics aside, Maroney is 5-foot-11, 205 pounds and built like a steamroller. Smith won his Heisman in a totally different era, but the prize represents equal merit. Unfortunately Smith, who died of cancer in 1976, will not be able to watch Maroney’s attempt at greatness, but the thousands upon thousands of the University of Minn.’s current students and alumni will.

His chances are slim, considering the Gophers won’t win a national title nor a major bowl of any kind. But, anything is possible. So, with Maroney against odds similar to that of the White Sox winning a World Series, one should remember … miracles do happen.

Jeff Barthel is a contributing writer for The Wake athletics section. He accepts comments at .

Rule Changes

In an effort to make professional hockey more entertaining, the NHL has altered the rules to make the game more focused on offense. This season there are a plethora of new rules that make the game faster-paced and higher-scoring.

The rink dimensions have changed to make the offensive zones bigger, the blue lines have moved closer to center ice, and the goals have moved farther back. Icing is still enforced, but the team committing an icing infraction will no longer be able to make a line change for the ensuing face-off.

Goaltenders will now be limited to a trapezoid-shaped area behind the net when handling the puck. In addition, goaltender pads have shrunk in width from 12 inches to 11 this season. The blocker and catching glove have also shrunk by an inch and 2 inches respectively to allow more shooting space for forwards.

Two-line passes have also changed. In the past, if a pass crossed the blue line and the red line, the play was whistled dead. Now, the red line is unaccounted for in two-line passing situations.

Offside rules have also changed; players are now allowed to enter the offensive zone before the puck. The player must then leave the zone and reenter before receiving the puck.

Goaltenders used to be the only victims of the delay-of-game rule. The rule now applies to anyone on defense who flips a puck out of play.

There are also no more ties at the end of games. If the game is tied at the end of regulation, there is a five minute, sudden-death overtime that is played 4-on-4. If the game is still tied at the end of the overtime, a shootout involving three players from each team occurs to decide the winner of the game. If the shootout ends in a tie, one player from each team shoots until the tie is broken.

Any player who starts a fight within the last five minutes of the game receives a game misconduct and a one-game suspension. For each incident after that, the suspension is doubled. Not only is the player punished, but his coach will receive a $10,000 fine for the incident, which also doubles for each subsequent incident.

The Implications of the New Rules

Life after the strike has been a fairly cushy journey for the NHL this season, which was not widely anticipated coming into the 2005-2006 season. Attendance levels have surpassed the level they were at for the 2003-2004 season, which is quite surprising. This season, throughout the league, attendance per game is up 6.2 percent; or 17,673 fans. This shows how much fans missed the sport and being able to watch the game.

Scoring has increased dramatically. At this point in the season, the average goals per game in 2003-2004 was 4.5. This year, there is an average of 6.4 goals per game, representing a 41 percent increase.

The amount of shots taken per game by both teams has increased as well. This year there has been an average of 58.9 shots per game, as opposed to 52.3 shots per game two years ago.

Thus far, five teams have been able to overcome two-goal deficits to win. At this point in the season two years ago, only one team was able to overcome a two-goal deficit and walk away with a victory.

There have also been 70 percent fewer shutouts this season than at this point in the season two years ago.

So far 72.4 percent of the games have been free of fights, which is a significant drop.

The new rules have made a major impact on the way the game is played. There are more breakaways due to the elimination of the two-line passing rule. The nature of the game has changed to allow more goals and fewer fights, which is great for hockey fans and terrible for boxing fans.

The lights come up on the players as they skate around in circles. The pep band launches into the rouser. Not the regular pep band, but the women’s athletics pep band. Their version is equally awe-inspiring.

I look up at the roof of Ridder Arena and banners fall like beacons of dominance: back-to-back national championships, 2004-2005. WCHA Champions, both regular season and tournament. Champions of the world, really. I hear a guy behind me brag about how five former and current members of the team were selected to represent the U.S. in the 2006 Winter Olympics.

“M-I-N-N-E-S-O-T-A,” the crowd chants in unison. The players line up for the face-off. Minnesota takes quick control of the puck and passes into its opponent’s end. A shot on goal. Miss. Andrea Nichols shoots a one-timer off the rebound. Goal!

Damn, this team is good. And to think, they lost all their great players to graduation or the Olympics. I take a look at my program and see the national rankings: #4 Minnesota, Wisconsin #2 and Minnesota-Duluth #3.

“Those are our two biggest rivals,” I think to myself. I can’t believe that I’ve never come to a game before or even followed their dominance closely.

The band launches into the rouser once again as the Gophers take a 2-0 lead. As I look out to see the bowl of Maroon and Gold clapping and singing in unison, it dawns on me: I need to be a women’s hockey player for Halloween.

I lunge from my seat and leave the arena with great haste. The nearest Gold Country is still open, and I make my purchase: A #5 women’s hockey jersey, a mini hockey stick and a Gopher hockey helmet with white bars covering the face.

Halloween arrives and I prepare, alone in my bedroom. I put on the shirt, and stuff my shoulders with newspaper. I pull my maroon shorts over white tights and put my helmet on. The man in the mirror looks back at me, a smile is seen through the white bars.

“I’m ready,” I say. “This is the best Halloween costume ever.” I yell for my roommates to come.

“You’re a fucking hockey player?” Sam asks, holding a beer.

“Not just any hockey player, a women’s hockey player.”

“Nice. Ready to go to the party?” Sam is dressed in a Hamburglar outfit. We leave the house and walk down a dark street. The street light overhead flickers and goes out, leaving us in complete darkness.

“Nice costume,” a man shouts from his porch. I don’t know if he’s talking about Sam or me. But I assume he’s a die-hard women’s hockey player fan and is showing his appreciation for the team by complimenting my costume.

“Thanks,” I reply.

“I think he was talking about my costume,” Sam chirps. He would think that. He’s just jealous that I thought about dressing as a women’s hockey player before he did.

We get to the party and hordes of princesses, doctors, and Turkish invaders flood the family room. “Ha,” I think. “Same costumes every year.”

“Hey look,” a man in a toga shouts. “He’s a hockey players.” He laughs. “That’s cool dude.”

“Not just any hockey player,” I reply. “A women’s hockey player.” He drops his beer on the ground as he looks at me with a confused face. I reach down to pick up his beer before it makes too big of a mess. “You know,” I continue. “The women’s hockey team. They just won back-to-back national championships.” He grabs the beer out of my hand and walks away.

I glance around to see where the keg is. “Hey,” I hear a woman shout. “You’re a hockey player.” I turn and see a short gal dressed in a jaws costume.

“I’m actually a woman hockey player,” I say.

“What?” She stays silent for a few beats, then laughs. “Oh, haha, yeah. I get it.”

“Huh? There’s nothing to get. I’m dressed as a women’s hockey player.”

“We have a women’s hockey team?”

“Yes! They just won two god-damned national championships back-to-back!” My voice carries into the entire room, and several guests turn to see me. “I’m number five! I’m Chelsey Brodt! I’m a freaking co-captain!” A man dressed as a clown turns the music louder to drown me out.

I leave the party and wonder: what the fuck is wrong with our campus?

Autumn comes in cycles: cold, warm, windy, cold, hot, cool, cold. This cyclical nature strikes me as I hop off my bike, sweat running down my forehead. Wasn’t yesterday chilly? This sucks.

I lock my bike up and walk into Taraccino Coffee off Hennepin and University. I’m supposed to meet John Gaede here and interview him about the Twin Cities marathon. I walk to the front counter; two attractive women are waiting for my order.

“What can I get you?” a tall, twenty-something with long-brown hair asks.

“Actually,” I say softly, “I’m here to meet John for an interview.”

“Oh, he’s in a meeting. He’ll be up in a second. I’ll let him know you’re here.”

I take a seat in the middle of the room and go over my notes. A marathon is 26.2 miles. The world record for the fastest marathon is 2 hours, 4 minutes, 55 seconds, set by Paul Tergat of Kenya in 2003. A thought creeps over me: I’m not prepared for this interview at all. I remember reading about a doctoral dissertation that focused on how people approach tasks after their first marathon. I don’t remember anything else, though.

“Are you Lane?” John Gaede sits down across from me. We go over the standard questions. Where are you from? What kind of running have you done in the past? We get the bullshit out of the way. He’s 23 and running in the Twin Cities marathon. It’s his first marathon. What a coincidence, it’s my first time writing about a marathoner.

“Tell me about the training,” I say to John. He tells me that he and his roommate decided last February to run the marathon, and started training May 30.

And this whole training thing is pretty interesting. Apparently, you start out running only a few miles, and you slowly build and build until you eventually run 18 miles. And he says if you can run 18 miles, you can run 26, no problem.

I guess it makes sense, the whole incremental thing. I never considered running a marathon before, but this training business makes it sound doable.

“What sort of goals did you have when you started training?” I ask. He tells me his initial goal was just to finish. Then, after a few weeks, he decided he wanted to finish the marathon in less than four hours. In another few weeks, he thought 3:45:00 was an achievable goal. His latest goal is 3:30:00.

This peaks my interest. I always assumed that when a person runs in his or her first marathon, the only goal is to finish. I can hardly imagine what kind of confidence this guy has.

“I’d be disappointed if I didn’t finish under 3:45:00,” he says. Wow. Disappointed, that’s a strong word. How can anyone have the gall to say “fuck you” to his first marathon by not acknowledging the simple task of finishing it? This guy is good. Real good. I feel the need to push the envelope.

“Don’t you think you can do better than that?” I ask. “Can’t you crack three hours?”

“Maybe if someone was chasing me,” he laughs, “a dog maybe.” I see, so he’s not cocky. He’s just confident. He goes on to tell me about his training route, how hot it would get on Lake Calhoun by the early afternoon, and how he knows that when he does the race for real, the conditions will be much nicer.

The conversation dips and turns from a chat about an 86-year-old great-uncle who still runs half marathons, to John’s self-proclaimed “good bladder control.” We end up talking about his future.

“What’s next for John Gaede?” I ask.

“Well, I’d like to run in the Boston Marathon,” he says. “You have to have a three and half hour time to qualify, but hopefully I get that in the Twin Cities marathon.” I can’t believe what I’m hearing. I shake his hand and leave the store.

As I bike towards campus through the warm afternoon, I wonder if maybe I could run in a marathon. Sure I’m overweight and I could probably be in better shape, but after meeting John; it’s doable.

Advice for the first-time marathoner

Find a training program that works with your schedule and stick to it! If you miss too many days of training, it’s much easier to hurt yourself. Stay consistent.

Workout prior to starting your training program to get your body and lungs in shape.

Always start long runs early in the morning. Three hours of running in ninety degree heat is pretty terrible, if not dangerous.

This fall season the Minnesota sports world has seen a dismal end to the Twins recent playoff streak, a disconcerting start to the Vikings’ season and the annual encouraging start and eventual falter of the Gophers’ football season. However, one program that’s been consistently strong⎯but not nearly as recognized⎯is Minnesota Gophers’ volleyball.

Led by Head Coach Mike Hebert, the Minnesota volleyball program has become

a national power in recent years. Entering his 10th season here, Hebert brought the Gophers out of obscurity and into the national spotlight, leading the team to its first Big Ten Championship, Final Four and national championship appearances.

Hebert says there’s no magical secret to his success, but listed the following criteria for building a national power.

First, you have to hire a great coaching and recruiting staff. Second, you have to find good players. And third, you have to create an environment that makes everyone happy.

In fulfilling his first step, Hebert brought in recruiting coordinator David Boos in 2002. At 30, Boos is considerably inexperienced in comparison to Hebert, a NCAA Division I head coach of 29 years. However, he has already done his share in helping Hebert form a top volleyball program.

As a coaching/recruiting tandem, Hebert and Boos have attracted many of the nation’s strongest, most talented players to Minnesota; four have developed into NCAA All-Americans.

As for the third step in Hebert’s success plan – environment – Minnesota has the Sports Pavilion, a 5,800-seat arena renown as one of the top volleyball venues in the country. And the environment created by Hebert fosters success beyond just the physical atmosphere.

Every major NCAA contender has superior coaching, top talent and quality facilities to nurture its success — what does Minnesota have that others may not?

“I think we project a certain style in a program where people are happy and get along and support each other, and the coaches are of the same mind,” Hebert said. “I think it’s a feel-good, warm, fuzzy kind of a program that attracts a lot of people.”

Historically, though, the nation’s most successful programs have nearly all come from states where warm weather and/or beaches are plentiful, making volleyball more easily accessible to its athletes. Since its inception in 1981, the NCAA Division I Women’s Volleyball Title has been held by just nine teams, seven of which are located in warm climates.

Stanford, located in northern California, has six titles, including last year’s. Three other California colleges⎯UCLA, USC and Long Beach State⎯have three apiece. Hawaii has also won three, while Pacific has won two. In fact, only three D-I schools not from California or Hawaii⎯Penn State University, Texas and Nebraska⎯have won the NCAA volleyball title.

Still, Hebert insists Minnesota’s “warm” program can attract recruits despite the cold climate.

“We still get a lot of difficulty [recruiting] because of the weather, but the people who understand what’s important, I think, are still attracted to the program.”

In an attempt to push Minnesota past it’s national runner-up finish ⎯ the Gophers lost the championship 3-0 to Stanford in 2004 ⎯ Hebert’s 2005 team will boast eight new players and an incoming recruiting class ranked fourth nationally. Ironically, two of the new players transferred from states known for their warm weather

“I think a big part of coming here was coach Hebert,” said USC transfer Sara Florian, “just his sincerity of wanting me to be a part of his program.”

Top freshman recruit Kyla Roehrig agreed that the coaching staff was a major selling point in signing with the Gophers.

“I just loved my visit here, the coaches are great,” said Roehrig, a 6-foot-5-inch Nebraska native. “And the girls … you just want to attach to them because they remind you so much of your friends and family.”

Roehrig joins a volleyball family that includes three-time Big Ten Defensive Player of the Year Paula Gentill, All-American junior setter Kelly Bowman and a frontcourt tandem⎯junior Meredith Nelson and sophomore Jessy Jones⎯Hebert touts as “one of the best, if not the best middle blocker tandem in the Big Ten.” Nelson, Minnesota’s leading blocker in 2005, returns as a the team’s captain. Hebert also credits Bowman, Jessica Byrnes and Marci Peniata as team leaders.

So by adding a bevy of top recruits and a pair of talented transfers to this group of talented veterans, could this be the year Hebert and Minnesota win it all? The 2005 team is arguably the most talented group of players the Gophers have ever had. Considering the Gophers are off to a hot start this season, and have been ranked in the top ten for over 20 straight weeks dating back to 2003, it is plausible but still early.

“I think the key is to be balanced offensively and also to maintain our team chemistry,” Nelson said. “We have eight new players and eight veterans, so it’s going to be hard to continue a level of chemistry that’s going to be an elite team.”

Jeff Barthel is a contributing writing for The Wake. He accepts comments at .

Ultimate frisbee began in 1968 and has been growing ever since. It took off on the West and East coasts, but over the years colleges have been adding ultimate to their list of club sports. The sport, originally laid-back, has become more competitive. At the University of Minnesota, ultimate is a club sport that has become a passion for its 30-plus team members.

The ultimate team at the U of M has enjoyed success over the past few years. Last year, the team finished with an impressive 24-8 record. They went on to win the sectional tournament for the first time in 15 years, defeating Carleton College, whose team is known for having consistently strong squads.

At the regional tournament, the U of M finished third, an impressive feat considering the two teams that finished ahead of them have each won the national championship over the past five years. As impressive as their third-place finish was, the team missed out on a chance to compete in the national championship in May. Only the top two finishers at regions are rewarded with a trip to this prestigious tournament.

The fall season for ultimate is laid back compared to the intensity of the spring season. The fall is mostly used to work out kinks and figure out which players will play for the A team and B team; the lower-ranked team is used to develop players’ skills in the hope that they’ll be able to play for the A-team in the future. According to sophomore, A-team member Andy La Bonte, “Fall is preseason for ultimate…you have practice twice a week for three hours and you‘ll go play tournaments periodically during the semester.” Unlike other club sports, the teams’ fall tournament records don’t carry over to the spring season.

When spring arrives, things heat up for the ultimate team. Players have to be more focused and the time commitment increases: the team has practice two to three times a week in addition to workouts. A normal practice includes throwing and conditioning drills, and scrimmages. For the workouts, the team runs stairs.

Spring competition for the ultimate team begins in February when they travel to the South for tournaments. Last year, the team traveled to New Orleans during Mardi Gras where they went 3-2. The team also traveled to Kansas and Georgia in the spring of 2005. Last year, they went 5-2 at College Terminus in Georgia, and 3-2 at Fool’s Fest in Kansas.

Team members must fork over cash in order to compete. Each player pays dues to the UPA, the Ultimate Players Association. The cost-per-year for each player at the college level is $30. In addition, each player must pay a fee to the university in order to play a club sport. The team also pays for transportation to and from tournaments.

Ultimate is a non-contact sport, yet there are plenty of injuries. “There have been people who’ve been laid out into chairs and punctured their lungs. There have been people who get concussions because two people go up for a disc and bang their heads,” La Bonte says. “Ambulances have had to come to tournaments to take people off on stretchers.”

Rules of the Game

Ultimate is a combination of soccer and football; the sport combines the passing skills needed in football and the stamina involved in soccer. The game begins when one team “pulls” the disc to the opposing team. This is similar to a kickoff in football: once a player receives the disc, they are not allowed to run with it. This is repeated after each point. A disc can be passed in any direction on the field.

The game is played to 15 points, which are scored by completing a pass into the opponents’ end zone. Unlike most competitive sports, there are no officials or referees. Fouls are called by the players when contact is made, and the players settle disputes amongst themselves. The game is meant to be played at a fast pace, so disputes should be settled in a timely fashion.

Possession is lost when the disc is thrown out of bounds, intercepted, dropped or when a player holds on to the disc for more than 10 seconds. The 10-second count is done by the defender of the person with possession of the disc.

Substitutions may occur after a point is scored or during an injury timeout.

To be eligible you may not pass four years of participation, just as it is for most other sports. Teams may have any combination of graduate and undergraduate students, as long as they haven’t exceeded their eligibility.

This exciting game can be seen at various tournaments around the state this fall. If you are interested in joining the ultimate team at the U of M, or would like to check out a tournament, visit .

The car door slams shut and I walk toward the first hole. I make big circles with my right arm, roll my neck from side to side and clear my throat with a cough. Hole one: 320 feet.

There are sturdy oak trees to the left and right, only a narrow window for my disc to travel through. I line up my shot and focus on making the perfect throw. I take two steps, and with a flick of my wrist and a slight grunt, the disc flies off my hand and hits the tree 30 feet in front of me.

“Nice shot, Lane,” my friend, Alex, says. He laughs, “Curse of the ages.” He takes his shot, and his disc lands 10 feet from the pin.

I walk to my disc, shaking off the effects of my terrible first shot. This one will be better. I wind up and throw. The disc soars high and far. “Not bad,” I think. Then it hooks hard left, toward a stream running through the course. “Fuck,” I mutter. Another disc lost in the water.

“Concentrate,” my friend yells at me. He already finished the hole in two shots. I approach the stream and see that the disc is directly in the middle of it. Thankfully, the water is shallow. I kick off my moccasins and roll up my pants. Goosebumps form on my arms while I walk through the painfully cold stream. There are people behind me, snickering, as I reach in to grab my disc.

“My next shot has to be good,” I say to myself. I take a long pause before I shoot.

“Let’s go!” Alex shouts. I heave my disc toward the pin. It hits another tree.

“I give up,” I yell. This game is ridiculous anyway. If I wanted to throw a disc as far as I could, I’d get a dog. Then at least, I wouldn’t have to walk so much. What’s the point of this game anyway? All you do is throw a piece of plastic until it lands in a metal basket. And you do this over and over and over again. It’s not like you have to run and catch the disc. You don’t get to tackle anyone. There aren’t any timers. There aren’t any points. There aren’t any cheerleaders or halftimes. All you do is throw a stupid disc.

“Sheesh, Lane, it’s not your day is it?” Alex says. “This is like the time when we were making up our own course around campus and you threw your disc into the Mississippi.” I laugh, pull out a cigarette and begin smoking.

That was a long time ago, back when I first started disc and the novelty of the game was still strong. My friends and I would walk around campus with our discs and designate trees and posts as holes. We figured you didn’t need real pins to play the game. As long as you had a disc, you could make a course anywhere.

“That was pretty funny,” I reply. I pick up my disc and walk to the next hole. “Give me a double bogey.” As much as I want to leave the course right this instant, I trudge forward for my friend’s sake.

I line up for my drive, and am convinced that I will hit another tree. I really don’t care anymore. I turn my body and extend my arm. The disc flies off my hand and soars straight ahead. It flies level, like there’s a pilot inside of it and I’m struck by how beautiful the Frisbee looks when it floats through the air. It stays in the air for a long time, and doesn’t descend back to Earth until it reaches the base of the pin.

“Nice shot,” Alex says. For the first time since stepping out of the car, I smile. We walk down the green hill toward the pin in silence. I hear birds flying overhead. I can smell freshly mowed grass. It’s refreshing. I realize I’m glad this game isn’t timed. I’m glad I don’t have to run or tackle anyone. I’m glad that all I’m doing right now is throwing a disc and walking.

Neyland Stadium
University of Tennessee

Arguably the best college football stadium in the nation is in Knoxville, Tenn. Built in 1921, Neyland Stadium hosts more than 100,000 screaming fans. Located next to the Tennessee River, the stadium hosts tailgaters who arrive via boat hours before game time to “prepare” for chaos inside the massive structure. The checkered end zones and passionate fans who form a sea of orange create an atmosphere rivaled by only a handful of top programs across the country. Tennessee fans sing “Rocky Top” repeatedly during the two-and-a-half-hour spectacle.

Notre Dame Stadium
Notre Dame

Notre Dame Stadium has been a staple of college football since its creation in 1930. Even after major renovations, the stadium has not lost its historical feel. Notre Dame is home to the Four Horsemen and 11 national championship teams. Notre Dame Stadium has sold out every game but one dating back to 1964, so if you’re expecting to hop online to find tickets for a home game, think again. With 80,000 fans roaring in unison and singing, “Hail, Hail to Old Notre Dame,” the stadium exudes the ultimate sense of pride and tradition.

Tiger Stadium
Louisiana State University

Tiger stadium is home to the LSU tigers and 90,000 fans from the Deep South. The stadium is an architectural masterpiece that resembles a Roman coliseum. The weather is steamy and the energy is intense when the Tigers take the field—a liveliness that carries throughout the game. In 1988, the fans were so loud after a touchdown, they caused an earth tremor that was registered on a seismographic meter in the geology department of the school. The nickname “Death Valley” was appropriately given to the stadium.

Michigan Stadium
University of Michigan

Built in 1927, Michigan Stadium has undergone a variety of renovations to maintain maximum capacity for its football following. The Big House is the largest football stadium in the country, seating 107,000 rabid fans. With the most Division I victories and 11 national championships, Michigan fans are a proud group, and rightfully so. On Saturdays, the Big House is a swarm of blue and maize, and the fans’ rendition of “Hail to the Victors” can be deafening. Varsity Plaza in Ann Arbor comes alive on game day, and the pregame festivities are remarkable.

The “ohs” used to cascade down the bleachers like a wave. Arms flailed in unison. And the traditional war chant of Native American tribes was heard on a television in front of millions of people.

“We are the Fighting Sioux,” one man shouts, beer in hand. There is an emptiness to his statement, like someone had taken the plug out of a drain.

“You were the Fighting Sioux,” another man corrects him. “Times have changed, buckaroo.” The two men sit down to reminisce over their past.

“It just sucks,” the beer-holding man says. “That name was ours just as much as it was theirs. For god’s sake, I graduated as a Fighting Sioux, not some fairy Orchid.”

“Now Randy,” the other man says. “There’re nothing wrong with orchids. They happen to be quite a beautiful and powerful flower.” His positive spin on the situation is nauseating. Everyone knows that orchids aren’t powerful, and their beauty is debatable.

“All I can say,” Randy continues, “is that my son ain’t gonna dress in no sissy flower costume when he should be dressed in full Indian regalia, and using his right arm as a mock tomahawk to intimidate his opponents. Just like the Fighting Sioux of this land did thousands of years ago.”

The other man mutters under his breath and leaves Randy alone with his beer. The TV cuts to breaking news.

“Three men dead after a clash between university traditionalists and protesters,” the TV says. “A statement from the university reads: ‘We regret the unfortunate incident that has occurred on our campus. We expect these types of episodes to arise regularly as the University painstakingly appeals the decision of the NCAA to ban schools like ours from NCAA championship competition. Do not doubt our resilience. We will be victorious. For as an orchid will eventually wither and die, the spirit of the Sioux lives on and on.’ ”

Randy claps at the university’s statement. He thinks there is too much history in his alma mater’s mascot to just throw it down the drain at the whim of some complaining Nancy.

All of a sudden, Randy’s TV cuts to the image of mounted cavalry massacring an unsuspecting Native American village. Then he sees a young child wrapping herself in a blanket infected with small pox. He then sees 38 men standing on a platform with nooses around their necks in Mankato, Minn. A bearded man in a black hat utters a quick prayer, says a word to a bloodthirsty crowd, and oversees the largest mass execution in United States history.

Randy turns the TV off and closes his eyes, trying to forget what he just saw. He tries to think about what’s really important to him. He thinks about beer, football and big-breasted women.

I’m not sure how many times I’ve been awake before five o’clock in the morning during the summer, but once was enough when a solar-car driver put me to work by ripping off the sheets and leaping on my hotel bed. I had no idea what I was getting myself into when I signed up for this project.

I came away from a 2,500-mile race with the strength and confidence to build race cars; I’m a different person than I was when I first decided to work on this project, and I can only attribute that rift in my personality to the people I came to know through the building, testing and racing of our car. I’ll come to any project I face with determination and the expertise to win.

My racing team, consisting of about 20 dedicated engineers, was on a mission to build a solar-powered car. We did so in five months, following a year-and-a-half-long design process. There were also countless undergraduate and graduate students, sponsors, volunteer contacts in industry, and one very dedicated professor who helped.

In the process of building our car, students were responsible for every aspect of the work. The team recruited all of the active student members, raised all of our funding, and constructed nearly everything. Building on what we should have been learning in our classes, we did all of the design ourselves, much to my GPA’s detriment.

The first race of the summer—the Formula Sun Grand Prix—was the qualifier for the North American Solar Challenge. The University of Minnesota qualified first with the most laps, winning awards for the fastest lap and the Esprit De Corps; we were able to help Stanford University with their almost-race-worthy car and give support to MIT’s supremely short-handed team of two or three engineers able to attend the race.

Our team also won the Esprit De Corps award at the main event for our helpful attitude toward racing and the Kami Kazi team headbands we sported at every opportunity. We even made up for testing our car horn in the pits at two in the morning by donating a motor to the University of Waterloo when theirs blew up.

The main event—for which everything else was in preparation—was a 10-day road race in July from Austin, Texas, to Calgary, Alberta. It was probably the longest, hardest, and most rewarding thing I’ve ever been involved with.

In the first few days, we were required to pass a professional-style braking test, a maneuverability test and turning tests. Everybody on our team was scurrying around during the inspections with donated aviation radios relaying standings and tech facts as we were building or correcting last-minute details on our car.

The race had four stages. For most of the 20 or so qualified teams, the race began after the first-stage stop and continued at staggered intervals to the end. Minnesota remained in the pole position for the first two stages, ahead of the University of Michigan, MIT and Waterloo in roughly that order.

Toward the last few stages of the race we began to discuss winning and what it took to win a race like this; weighing the prospect of time penalties for minor traffic violations, discussing strategy, and ironing out team roles and responsibilities to do everything quickly.

The final stage of the race took place from Medicine Hat to Calgary in Alberta. The racing order was the order we came in to staging; the time between starts was staggered by only a minute.

The competition narrowed itself down as we reached the last stage: Michigan and Minnesota were the first two into the last leg of the race, and a one-minute difference in the final starting time wasn’t enough to separate the two titans.

We were neck-and-neck until the very end, with Michigan barely in the lead. Our caravan changed lanes several times, navigating between semitrailers and timing lights along the roads into Calgary, as spectators lined the highway for nearly 200 miles. We came across the finish line within seconds of Michigan, but the total elapsed time summed up to a difference of 11 minutes.

Considering the gap between the leading cars in the previous competition was close to four hours, it was an incredibly close contest. It was a test of our cars, our money, our teams, and our ability to race.

We gained more than a traveling trophy could have ever offered, and I wouldn’t trade a minute of racing to be a minute sooner over the finish line. With all of the people I met and everything we learned along the way, I wouldn’t trade racing for anything.

Jaques Dolan was a member of the U of M’s Solar Car team and is a guest writer for The Wake. He welcomes comments to . To find out more about the U of M’s Solar Car project, visit their website at